


Casting Off Chains

by greenofallshades



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Confrontations, Family Issues, Gen, Leaving Home, Marriage, Revelations, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 03:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16442462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenofallshades/pseuds/greenofallshades
Summary: Mary Woodhull has come to a crossroads in her life.  The time has come to do what's best for her future and for her son, as well.  It isn't going to be easy, but she can depend on her own strength, and on support from an unexpected quarter.





	Casting Off Chains

Mary Woodhull could pinpoint the day—even the moment—she began to truly hate her father-in-law. 

John Graves Simcoe had been almost at the doorstep, and she was desperate to take her child and get him away to a place of safety. The Rangers’ commander had a well- known reputation for brutality—even including the murder of children, according to what she’d been told.

But Judge Woodhull had wrenched Thomas from her arms and held him hostage, refusing to let her protect her son.

She looked into the face of the man she’d called Father, saw his smug contempt at her helplessness and desperation. Any fondness she had left for him died. 

Although her way of thinking about certain things was different now, she had never gotten over the harsh truth that Richard Woodhull was willing to put at risk those he loved—including a child, HER child and his grandson—for his own petty concerns.

And so she would take pleasure in this last dinner.

Aberdeen set out the china and the silverware while Mary brought in the dish of winter squash pie and served Richard’s plate. She recalled another evening when she’d prepared the same dish for another man. That night had ended in a riot of pandemonium—fear, desperation, a race against time, a slaughtered Queen’s Ranger, and a missed head shot that collected an ear instead of a life. 

Yet among the chaos, she found within herself unimagined focus, and a cold capability which bloomed from the very heart of the fevered chaos.

Mary smiled to herself.

Here came the hollow thump of boots on wood flooring, so she dismissed Aberdeen and stood back to wait for her father-in-law, hands clasped demurely at her front.

Richard Woodhull entered the room dressed in home attire of black trousers and vest with white puffy-sleeved shirt. The indifferent glance he cast her way did not escape her. She could remember a time when he actually pretended to some sort of fatherly affection, but that facade had collapsed long ago.

“You won’t be joining me?” asked the judge as he sat down and picked up his napkin.

“Only for a while. And not for dinner.” Mary moved forward and sat down at the opposite end of the long table. She arranged her skirts—-heavy cotton instead of her usual silk or satin—and waited. 

Mealtimes at Whitehall had become an uncomfortable affair, marked by uneasy silences. As had almost every time she was in the company of her father-in-law. She had begun to seek ways to avoid him whenever possible.

It was a relief to be free of that burden now.

“I thought you could at least be relied upon for proper manners,” the judge said sharply. “Why are you at table wearing a house dress?” He was making his way through the meal she prepared for him without remarking whether it was good or fit only for the pigs.

“It wouldn’t be sensible to wear a good dress on a long nighttime journey,” she said simply. “Not seated on horseback.”

That got his attention. He looked up. “Long journey? What are you talking about?”

Mary said nothing. She simply waited. 

Richard laid down his fork and sat back in his chair. It was then that his eye fell upon three small sacks and a small chest, piled out of the way at the side of the room..

“What is that?” He cocked his head toward the bags. 

Taking a breath, she found that she was perfectly calm...even serene. 

“I’m leaving Abraham,” she replied.

The judge barked a derisive laugh. “Leaving? Where would you go? You have no one besides your husband and your son.”

The memory of her mother and her father came to the forefront of her mind. It stung to hear this man make mockery of their absence in her life. He would never know how it felt to be trapped in a home which had become inhospitable, with no one who cared about her. 

“You would be surprised,” she said simply.

An expression of impatience crossed his face, and he sighed in irritation. “Mary, I would like to eat my meal in peace. Whatever little female ploy this might be to garner attention, would you please be done with it, quickly.”

“Everything will be done with quickly, don’t worry. Someone is coming for me, and if everything goes according to plan, you and I will never trouble each other again. The same is true for your adulterous son. I will be rid of him, of you, and of this stifling house. Permanently.”

As she spoke, she watched his face; she observed his expression change from mild annoyance to consternation.

“You would not dare,” he said.

“I would. And you won’t dare try and stop me.”

The judge rose from the table quickly, in a manner that was a bit unsettling.

“Stop.” Mary’s voice that was quiet but steady, with a steel core. “Don’t let your choleric nature lead you to rashness. If you do, it won’t go well for you.”

Angered, Richard’s face flushed. “What are you talking about, you little fool?”

Mary rose from her seat and walked to the head of the table. Plucking Richard’s wineglass from the table, she slowly twirled it, watching the red liquid glow in the candlelight. She took a sip and placed it down again. 

“I am relieving myself of a marriage in name only. I’m casting off a husband who openly admits an absence of feeling for his wife, who can barely bring himself to touch me. Whose heart will always belong to Anna Strong.” She shrugged. “I’ve found a man who values me, and I am going to be with him.”

“Why, you little whore,” Richard remarked, almost wonderingly.

“Very likely," she said. “But since I’ve been surrounded by whores of various stripes for a long time, you above all, you’ll understand my inspiration.” She walked to the window and looked out into the impenetrable dark. “Abraham helped you disrupt Major Hewlett and Anna’s wedding because he couldn’t bear the thought of her in another man’s bed. I’m not going to fight for him any longer. He isn’t worth it.” 

“And who is this whoremaster for whom you plan to desert your husband and your child? You’re even more foolish than I’ve believed if you expect to get away with it. I’ll ruin the both of you,” Richard snarled. “When I’m done with you, you’ll be selling yourself to soldiers in order to have enough to eat.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else of you, but no. Really, you won’t. You’ve dealt with this particular man often enough to know that crossing him isn’t wise.”

Richard’s face underwent a slow evolution of expression. First a blank stare, then a stilling as though his heart had skipped as a possibility occurred to him.

Mary raised her eyebrows and nodded slightly.

Disbelief, followed by apprehension, and finally outrage. It was really rather gratifying to watch.

“Of course,” Richard said in a low voice. “Considering what I now know of your true nature...of course. Whoring yourself to your husband’s persecutor. How fitting.”

“Yes, it began that way...as retaliation for Abraham’s faithlessness. I laid with him in this house, each time in my own bed. And every night as I lay with Abraham pulled away to his side of the bed, a cold space between us, I could think of what took place earlier, and I had something of my own to hold onto.”

Mary had been looking through the window as she spoke. Now she turned back into the room, her gaze was unfocused as she remembered.

“Then, as time passed, I found out there was a side—a depth—to this man I had never known about. I fell in love with him.”

The response was a contemptuous snort. “What a heartwarming tale.”

Far down the lane, in the depths of the moonless dark, came the sound of horse’s hooves. Several horses.

“Thomas should be ready by now. He is coming for us.”

At that, Richard’s face went white. 

“Oh, no. You will never take my grandson from this house. You might as well abandon that idea now.”

There were soft steps in the doorway to the dining room, and they both turned to see Aberdeen holding Thomas in her arms. The little boy was wearing his cloak.

All traces of smug amusement and contempt had completely vanished. Richard was clearly agitated now, his eyes fearful.

The horses advanced quickly up the lane.

“Forget this plan now. Leave Thomas with me, and you may go with no consequence. If there is a legal issue, I give you my word I will do my best to resolve it. Just...do not rob me of my grandson.” His voice cracked on the last word.

Mary took Thomas from Aberdeen’s arms. The two women quickly embraced one another. Mary pressed the hand of the other woman and said quietly, “Thank you for everything.” Then she turned back to her father-in-law.

“I imagine you’re feeling something of the desperation I felt the day you snatched my child from my arms and willingly put his life in peril. Or so I thought at the time."

Sounds from the dooryard reached them—harnesses jingling, hooves stamping, male voices intermingling.

Mary’s cornflower blue eyes were as dark and hard as the North Atlantic sea in storm. “You gave your own son up for execution, and you did so with a restful mind. You’re no doubt capable of finding circumstances to do the same with Thomas if it benefits your convenience. What mother would be foolish enough to abandon her child to you?”

“Mary, in God’s name—-“

“Don’t. The Lord’s name has no place in your mouth.” 

The front door opened and closed again; heavy booted footfalls on the floor, approaching. 

A tall—and very familiar—shape filled the entrance way.

“I decided to collect you two myself,” said a light, high-pitched voice, always a surprise to those first hearing it emanate from such a large man. “Didn’t want to risk any unpleasantries with your departure.”

Mary turned toward the voice like a flower to the sun. Her entire demeanor relaxed at once.

The little boy squirmed and reached out his arms.

“Thomas!” John Graves Simcoe entered the room, tugging off his leather gloves finger by finger. Smiling, he lifted the child from Mary’s arms into his own, and settled him comfortably against his chest. Thomas was immediately at ease, and began to investigate the buttons on the captain’s coat.

Simcoe kissed Mary. Their lips lingered together, and when the kiss was over, they looked warmly into each other’s eyes.

“Is everything all right? Any trouble?” Over Thomas’s blonde head, Simcoe’s gaze locked with Richard’s.

“I think we’re fine now,” Mary replied.

For his part, this scene of the new family had almost broken the judge. He gripped the back of a chair as though to keep his legs from buckling beneath him. “Please, I implore you—Captain Simcoe, as one man to another, let my grandson stay. This is the boy’s home. Leave him and you can take that cheap—-“

“Careful, Magistrate,” the captain snapped. Thomas looked up, an expression of alarm on his little face. Simcoe smiled down at him and gently cupped the back of his head in one large palm. In a quieter tone, he went on. “I will not hear defamation of Mrs. Woodhull’s character. Do you understand?”

“Well, there’s something else you need to hear, then,” said the judge. He sank down onto the chair and looked up at the captain, a small smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Since we’re bringing everything into the open now, that is. I wonder if you would be as eager for her company if you knew she was the person who shot off your ear?” 

Simcoe slowly turned to look at Mary. Smug triumph showed on Woodhull’s face. “That’s right. You were almost killed that evening, by her hand. If you don’t believe me, ask the servants. How does that make you feel about your whore?”

The judge watched expectantly, waiting for the inevitable rage to erupt from the captain. He wanted to see Mary quail and cry and beg mercy. All of her foolish, wicked plans dashed to dust.

But…

...their faces were unreadable as they looked at each other. A slow smile began to break upon Mary’s face. Simcoe laughed and turned back to the judge.

“It tells me I’ve found a worthy companion and a woman with strength and determination. Good attempt, Magistrate, but useless in the end. I’ve known for quite some time who fired that shot. She made it known to me herself. I expect she will treat me very well to make up for it.” He glanced back at her, smirking.

“Entirely possible,” she murmured. “But in the spirit of baring our souls, it’s my turn.” Mary’s gaze was now locked with Richard’s. “Because there’s never been a reason to do so, I didn’t mention that I was afraid for my son’s life because you told me John threatened to kill him.”

The air in the room took on weight. Richard, his stomach sinking, realized his desperation had led him to make a serious mistake.

Simcoe’s face was blank. After a moment he turned toward Mary. “Take Thomas and make yourselves ready to leave,” he said, his voice perfectly light. “I’ll only be a moment. Don’t bother with the bags; my men will get them.”

“I will, but first I have something to say.” Mary moved forward and stood looking down at her father-in-law. 

“If you’re wondering how to tell Abe what’s happened, let me help you. Tell him that he will never know what it feels like to have the man you love, your husband and father of your child, look into your eyes and tell you, quite coolly, that he doesn’t love you. He will never experience the blow to the stomach and the sinking pain. Nor the desolate loneliness that follows. I do know. And I deserve better.”

With that, she turned to receive her child. The captain handed the little boy off to Mary, and the two of them left the room.. 

As soon as they were gone, Simcoe gathered the judge’s shirt and jerked him almost completely off his feet until their noses were nearly touching. “You were responsible for the death of my man Fitch,” hissed the tall captain. “She can’t be blamed--she was a mother protecting the life of her child. Thanks to you, Fitch died needlessly. And him his mother’s only son.”

The judge was released so quickly--almost thrown-- that he nearly lost his footing. Simcoe spoke, and his voice was a whiplash. “Do you really think that I would harm a child? Harm _Thomas_?” 

“I don’t---I don’t know anymore, I only want my grandson to stay. How can I tell Abraham that his son is gone?” His voice rose to a shout. “Damn you, what must I do?”

Simcoe moved in close again, too close for comfort, as was his habit. At times he did so unconsciously, but now it was for effect.

He began to speak.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Richard Woodhull stood on his doorstep and watched as Simcoe lifted Mary up into his horse’s saddle, and then swung up behind her. Little Thomas was strapped into an Indian-crafted pack on the captain’s broad back. 

The judge stood there as Mary and her son rode out of his life forever. For a little while, he could see the gleam of the boy’s tow head, even in the dark, as the horses moved down the lane. But then the darkness swallowed them up, the sound of the horses’ hooves receded, and they were gone.

He was alone. 

His mind went back to what Simcoe had said before he left. 

“It seems to me the two of you should have had a bit more foresight--you and your son. The farmer might have treated his wife with something besides dismissive contempt. For your part, abstaining from falsehood which resulted in bloodshed would have been the wiser course. Now the repercussions are coming home.

“You may consider yourself fortunate that I leave you with your life this evening, Magistrate.” Hissing voice, lip curled like a wolf. “Thanks to you, it was my duty to write the mother of Private Fitch to inform her of her son’s demise. I did not include the bloody details of his death, for which I hold you responsible.” 

Simcoe paused.

“There will be a reckoning, I assure you. At some future point I will be able to write the lady again to inform her that justice has been done for her son.”

With that, he turned and strode from the room.

 

Richard collapsed on the front step and held his head in his hands. He would have to come up with the words to tell Abraham what had happened, and to dissuade him from trying to follow the Rangers. If he did so, it would mean certain death.

As for he himself, he still drew breath. Thomas was just a memory now, but the judge knew he was fortunate to have been spared. 

For the present.

But the knowledge that John Graves Simcoe would come for him was like the reaper’s sickle poised above his head, waiting for an unknown moment when all accounts would be settled.

Judge Woodhull tiredly raised his head. He stared dully into the impenetrable night, knowing that the reaper, when he came, would not have the obsidian black eyes of the tomb. They would be the blue of glaciers and cold vengeance.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, guys. There's nothing to really explain here, other than the time setting is (obviously) sometime after Mary shoots Simcoe. I'm going to say Season 4, even though the Rangers were elsewhere. For whatever reason made them return to Setauket, it was just long enough and convenient enough to collect a two-person package---one damn tough woman and her cute little boy.


End file.
